


Whispers in the Dark

by yorkisms



Series: Lazer Team Playlist Fics [5]
Category: Lazer Team (2015)
Genre: Herman drinks and smokes and swears what else is new, M/M, alright boys. this is it. this is the big one, mindy's mom is still Marina, the gay one. the mega gay one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 07:50:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7926613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yorkisms/pseuds/yorkisms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But my heart was colder when you'd gone<br/>And I lost my head<br/>Let's live while we are young<br/>While we are young, while are young<br/>While we are young.</p>
<p>Or: Finally, finally, for once Herman and Hagan get on the same page. </p>
<p>It ends nicely for them both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whispers in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> THE CONCLUSION to this lovely trilogay...anyway now I'm probably gonna do character-centric fics and ot3 fics for this series. 
> 
> Fuckin cheers.

_You hold your truth so purely_   
_Well swerve not through the minds of men_   
_This lie is dead_   
_And this cup of yours tastes holy_   
_But a brush with the Devil can clear your mind_   
_And strengthen your spine_   
_But fingers tap into what you were once_   
_And I'm worried that I blew my only chance_

There's a spot on the ship, on deck five, near a vent, where the smoke detectors are broken and the remnants of any smoke rings that one could blow from sneaking a cigarette are essentially vented into space on the double. 

It's the perfect spot for Herman Mendoza, who's always broken the rules anyway. He's been offered nicotine patches, sure, but that's not the same. 

He started smoking because he had a life he wanted to throw away. Now, the feeling of smoke scratching at the back of his throat just makes him feel alive. 

"You should really quit."

"Jesus, don't sneak up on me like that, Hagan."

"I wasn't sneaking," Hagan says, correcting as always. "I just walked up." 

"S'your fault I didn't hear you," Herman comments with a shrug. Hagan fumes slightly. 

"Herman-" 

"I'm fucking with you, god."

Hagan relaxes. 

"You're gonna run out of those eventually."

"And I'm gonna run out of booze, too."

"Wait, you have-"

"More than enough," Herman says smugly. Hagan sighs. 

"I just...don't know what to do with you."

(Herman notices, without noticing, the way that Hagan's eyes lift slowly and with a look of unconscious devotion)

(Herman notices the way Hagan sighs, shaking his head, and snorts, taking another drag of his cigarette)

"Don't you act so high and mighty. I'd tell the kids about what a wild child you were, but I don't think they'd believe you."

Hagan pauses, flushed, then shrugs. 

"You're...probably right."

"Ha, exactly." 

Herman pauses. "You want a smoke?"

"I d-don't know why you would ask me-"

"Don't play that game with me, man, I know you had a few back when. 'sides, when you walk around looking like that it means you have a migraine named Zach Spencer."

"Herman..."

"It's good for stress..."

"Just this once," Hagan finally snaps, before taking the offered cigarette. 

(He coughs when he inhales and Herman's amused that he'd try seemingly just to impress Herman, the only other person present) 

"I still don't get how you do it."

"Been a while?"

"Yeah, it's been a while since I tried a cigarette in high school, Herman."

Herman snickers, taking the cigarette back and moving it to his lips. 

(It's an indirect kiss, he thinks.)

If only he wasn't the only one thinking.

_Whispers in the dark_   
_Steal a kiss and you'll break your heart_   
_Pick up your clothes and curl your toes_   
_Learn your lesson, lead me home_

"God," Herman groans, leaning against the wall, panting.

"You're an idiot."

"I'm sorry, what?" Hagan's voice pitches up. 

"Clearly, you're an idiot. Because you thought the way to get through that stupid simulation that the man or whatever keeps throwing at us was to-"

"To fake die? Yes!"

"Well it took a lot of work to make my fake death fairly fucking realistic!" 

"It's the Kobayashi Maru test! There's just not any conceivable-" 

"Oh my god, you fucking nerd."

"What?"

"You just referenced Star Trek." 

"It's a pop culture phenomenon."

"Yeah, and you didn't even reference one of the most famous elements of Star Trek. You're a nerd."

"You're a nerd," Hagan sputters, "For understanding my reference."

"Shit, checkmate. You got me there."

"Wait, what?" 

"You got me, Hagan, I'm a nerd."

"What the fuck is up with you-"

"-but I didn't fuck everyone over in training."

"You're an asshole too," Hagan mutters. "I can't believe we were ever-"

"Friends?" Herman interrupts, teasing. 

"Believe it." he pauses for effect. "Yeah, we were best friends. Played on the fucking football team together, until you got my leg broken-"

"Don't," Hagan says, softer, and Herman backs off. 

"Sorry."

He pauses, then resumes. 

"Our class schedules were fucking identical and our lockers were right fucking next to each other in the goddamn locker room. Oh, and every day in the winter after practice we'd get dinner together. Like friends do." 

They're both a little red after that. 

(Herman's pretty sure Hagan doesn't know that he is.)

(That idiot.)

(Can't even notice when the whole world can read him like a book.)

Herman snorts, and gives him a playful shove by the shoulder. 

"Yeah, well, don't do the shit you pulled today again. Hear?" 

_Spare my sins for the ark_   
_I was too slow to depart_   
_I'm a cad but I'm not a fraud_   
_I'd set out to serve the Lord_

Twenty-some years ago, in Milford, it was cold. 

Cold enough that by the time Anthony Hagan and Herman Mendoza reached one of Milford's many diners in the dead of winter, Hagan was shivering. 

"I told you to grab your football jacket, man-"

"Herman," Hagan grits out in reply. "Shut. Up."

Herman snickers. 

"Hangon a sec."

Herman pulls open the backdoor to his car. 

"Take this, Tony."  
Hagan, before he can react, is hit in the face with a ball of cloth that smells vaguely of locker room sweat. 

"Wh-"

It's a red track jacket with white stripes. Milford colors. 

"This is yours-"

"Jeez, just hang onto it, Tony," Herman replies, shutting and locking his car. 

"Now come on, let's get our damn burgers already."

Present-day, Herman snaps out of this reverie. 

Where did that jacket go, he wonders. He figures it's probably in the garbage somewhere.

(He doesn't know that Hagan knows the answer to that)

(It's in a box, in the attic of the house where Mindy now lives by herself. It's folded neatly, still smells faintly of sweat. It sits on top of a framed team picture from 1996)

(The year it happened.)

_But my heart was colder when you'd gone_   
_And I lost my head but found the one that I love_   
_Under the sun, under the sun_

Okay, DETIA permits some alcohol. They were risking a revolt without it, so it's no secret that anyone on the ship can access it. 

It still startles Hagan, though, when Herman accosts him in the team's common room. 

Zach is on the other side, headphones in, watching something on his phone. 

"Tony," Herman says, almost tender, turning Hagan firetruck red. "I can't figure you out."

Herman's not sure what spurs him to use that particular nickname, one until this point relegated to the past. Maybe it's the gin. Maybe he's just always liked the taste of the word. 

"Can't figure what out," Hagan says, voice barely even. 

"You're hard to read," Herman slurs this slightly, beyond caring or even planning what the next words out of his mouth will be. 

"You just-- I can't tell if you're faking it or if you're really that...pff-stupid."

"What do you mean, stupid?"

"That's what I'm talking about," Herman groans. 

"You don't notice. Any of it. Any of it!"

"Any of what," Hagan asks, remaining embarrassment and slight amusement fading fast. "Don't notice what, Herman."

"Fuck," Herman groans. "You're doing it again. Look at you, you dumb cute son of a bitch!" 

"S-Sorry?"

"YOU'RE DOING IT."

"You're just being confusing." 

"Okay," Herman says, bitterness welling up inside of him.

"I see how it is. You can screw with what's-her-face easy peasy-"

"Marina?"

"And make babies-"

"Just one-"

"But you can't take a hint when some people flirt with you over the fuckin...course of twenty years. Okay. I get it. Either at this point you're ridiculously deep in the closet, like, how the fuck are things in Narnia deep. Or, you're fucking with me."

"Herman, I-"

"You wanna get...in my head...cause you fuckin noticed that I love you and you don't give a fuck. Is that what this is about?"

"I have no idea what you're talking abou-"

Herman's really not listening, because the alcohol is kind of saying he should do it now, regret it later. And who gives a shit, there's no filter between his brain and any part of his body, let alone his hands, and he tries (tries) to kiss Hagan as best he can. 

In truth, it's kind of sloppy, and gross, and Herman only enjoys it because the longer you wait for something the more you anticipate it and the more you anticipate it the sweeter it is.

Hagan's frozen stiff, completely still, as if made of stone. 

"What," Herman complains, after pulling away and waiting a moment.

"Still got...nothing?" 

He pauses again, then slurs, "Fine. M'...way too good f'r this shit anyway. If y're fuckin with me it's done. I don' have to love you anymore."

"Herman, wait," Hagan finally manages. 

The doors are already closed. 

_But fingers tap into what you were once_   
_And I'm worried that I blew my only chance_   
_Fingers tap into what you were once_   
_And I'm worried that I blew my only chance_

The stupidest part of the whole situation is that Hagan doesn't approach Herman again until the next day when the hangover is finally fading. 

Herman's looking out one of the few windows on this ship and trying to manage a coffee when Hagan finally appears again.

"I don't wanna hear it," Herman says. "If this has just been a fuckin' game to you and all I- don't wanna know."

"That's not it."

"Then what is, Tony?" 

(Herman doesn't notice, because he's not looking, that Hagan's shoulders drop slightly and his eyes soften)

"I didn't want to think about it."

"You didn't-"

"Not because of you." Hagan interrupts firmly before Herman can respond with indignance. 

"Because of..." he gestures out the window at the stars. "Them. Milford, the world."

"You care too much 'bout what people think, then."

"Maybe I do," Hagan admits, "But god, wouldn't things have been that much more awful if I'd come to this before we left?"

"You're right."

"What?"

"You're. Right."

Herman sighs, taking a sip of his coffee. 

"What a piece of shit town we're from. Just our goddamn luck."

"It's not that unfortunate," Hagan says, then his voice slows. His inexperience with emotional expression makes Herman snort quietly into the coffee. 

"I got to meet you."

"Tony, you ruined my goddamn life."

"I-"

"In the stupidest most mushy and goddamn wonderful way possible. Apart from breaking my leg and the space adventure, that could have been avoided."

"Yeah, uh...sorry about that."

"But what you're sayin is that you're not playin me here."

"Definitely not." 

"Good, cause everyone's noticed that you stare, it's a little late to pretend that you're fakin-"

"I what?"

"You stare at me. Did it a lot in high school, too." Herman starts to snicker. "The most infamous Milford resident to ever spend their time drooling over the _star player_ , the _Texas Tornado_ -"

"You dick," Hagan manages, and Herman can't contain himself from laughing anymore, and does so. 

"You knew the whole time-"

"Yeah, I knew, I figured you'd come around in a few months, not twenty years!"

"I hate it when you're one step ahead of me."

"A little late on the uptake," Herman comments. "Too slow." 

"Herman, I-"

"Man, shut up, Tony, you talk too damn much."

And before Hagan can even react to that, Herman has moved his coffee to the side with one hand and is kissing him again, this time slower and easier and more about the details. 

"So...us," Hagan finally says, eventually, and by the time he's found the wherewithal to speak Herman has finished his coffee and has been holding Hagan's hand for some time. 

"What 'bout it?"

"It's real?"

"As real as it can be."

(This must be what it feels like, in fairy tales, when the curse is finally lifted and everyone is saved, Herman thinks)

(Poetically, for the first time, there's no miscommunication and no missed signals. It's just them. On the same page at last and ready to go on.)

_But my heart was colder when you'd gone_   
_And I lost my head_   
_Let's live while we are young_   
_While we are young, while are young_   
_While we are young._


End file.
